This is an historical post, as it is the first ever written on a foreign computer on account of that I am currently in "The City," NYC, the Big Apple...that's New York City for you people from Manhattan, Kansas. I saved a few bucks by inconveniencing a friend in order to get a ride to my 1:00 in the morning bus which looked nice from the outside and was really clean so at first sight I was relieved that it wouldn't be a bus ride from hell, but it turns out that the seats seemed to be built for oompa-loompas or fifth graders or people with their legs amputated above the knees, which none of us were, so we were all crammed in fetal style. And the driver didn't seem to think we deserved heat so all night I was so freezing to death that I was thrilled when the total stranger next to me invaded my personal space in his sleep because body heat was the only way to stay warm. The sleeping people in front of me with their seats reclined so that the one seat was resting squarely on my un-amputated knees were so close to me that I had a perfect view of their sleeping heads resting against one another which looked so seriously sweet. This is what happens when you cram a bunch of strangers together in an unheated bus in the middle of the night- they reach for one another in their sleep.

Wow that was kinda sweet what I wrote.

Anyway, all this to save a few bucks.

Did I mention that I had to pee pretty much the whole night? And in the morning when we got there. And during the two hours when I was was walking around lost in Chinatown trying to find the #6 train. So when I finally got to where I was going I was really excited about peeing. Really excited. I figured that it was going to be the best pee of my life.

But it was only mediocre.

Anyhow- after taking a nap on a couch and enjoying horizontal sleep for a few hours, I went out exploring and that's when I touched the hand of Buddha. It was in the produce section. It is a fruit or maybe a vegetable. See the picture. Cool huh?

Only in New York.

Well actually I don't really know this to be true; it is likely that they have Buddha's Hands in other places but I have only seen them here and I don't have any truly weird only in New York stories to tell and I like that expression, so I am keeping it.

But if I do get any of those stories you will be the first to know.

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So I went out with a friend of mine and we got tea and they had a tea called "World Peace Tea" which we didn't get because we wanted another kind of tea but we were both wracked with guilt because what if it really works and we didn't order it? We got regular kinds of tea like peppermint and chai though, not sinister tea with a name such as "Immediate World Destruction, But Fuck It Because This Tea Tastes Wicked Good," so it isn't like we are 100% terrible people. Just kind of bad people, I guess. We could try harder, is all I am saying.

Tea with positive messages reminds me of the clothing I used to buy with the affirmations in the tags. I don't buy that stuff anymore because I got tired of looking like a hippy clown in my baggy black flax slacks and one size fits all (and I mean it fits ALL as in everyone at once) shirts. They were super comfy and super unflattering but they made up for it by having tags that said nice things like, "Love yourself," and "These pants don't at all make me look fat." Uplifting messages like that. I used to add the words "in bed" to the messages for fun.

Well, not really, but it is an amusing thing to do with fortune cookies...and it works very well, especially when your fortune is something like this...

You will sleep soundly tonight.

That game reminds me of when I was in college and worked in the library. We had to read the call numbers of books on the shelves to make sure the entire library was in order. It was a really important job and it might sound as if it were boatloads o' fun, but it was really pretty much shit loads of tedium. To make our job more interesting, we played this game where you had to insert random words into the titles of books on the shelves. The words we picked were "GODDAMN, BALD, and GAY." This, as you are beginning to pick up on, was not a very mature game, but we weren't very mature people.

The enhanced titles included The Goddamn Grapes of Wrath, Gay Beowolf and A Portrait of the Artist as a Bald Young Man.This was very funny to us. It isn't funny now because you and I are mature. But it was a laugh riot then. To prove my point, I will now pick random books off my shelf and play the same game and you will see how un-funny it is.

What's the Goddamn Matter With Kansas?

The Gay I-Ching

Pride and Prejudice and Bald Zombies

See? Not funny.

Then why are you laughing? Stop laughing.

Oh sorry...that was me.

My bad.

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In these difficult economic times, Callithump Thunderblog recognizes that it is not enough to provide first rate humorous anecdotes and hilarious commentary. We realize that what the typical reader really needs are ouch-less money saving strategies.

Look no further. You have come to the right place. Here is one such tip, something that will not only save you tons of money, but it is fun to do as well.

Here is what you do. Assemble the recipes together to create a delicious dinner menu. Write each ingredient on a separate piece of paper. Then add two other items to each piece of paper, so each resembles a list. Are you with me?

Here is an example:

1) pencil

2) Two 16 ounce cans of imported Italian plum tomatoes

3) paper clip

Find a group of people. Then, give each paper to a different person and tell them that, "We are having a scavenger hunt," and that they have to go door to door to get their items as in,

"I'm on a scavenger hunt and I was wondering if I can have a paper towel, 4 ounces thinly sliced procuitto, and a twist tie."

Set a timer and tell them to hurry, hurry, hurry. First person to collect their items and bring them back to you wins the prize. The prize is a cooking lesson under your tutelege!

"HURRY! HURRY! GO! GO! GO! WOO-HOO!"

This is a very good idea. You get to eat a delicious dinner for free and you get to have someone else cook it. And scavenger hunts are fun, so it is a win-win for all involved, not just the first one back. People love going on scavenger hunts and they love helping other people who are on scavenger hunts.

But just to play it safe, don't do this in your own neighborhood because your neighbors might be weirdos who are prejudiced against enormous amounts of fun.

I think it would work well with children. That is what I recommend, anyway because children love to play games. But if you do it with kids, put them in teams so that they have a buddy. It will be safer for them that way. But if you do that you will need twice as many kids. So, the team thing is totally optional.

If you do use kids you can let them keep the pencils, ballpoint pen caps, paper clips, coffee filters and twist ties. Kids love that stuff. And they will want to play again and again.

So pretty much this is a perfect plan. No more grocery shopping for you tonight! You can just sit back and let your ingredients come to you. It's better than FreshDirect even, because it is free.

And, in case you are wondering why I know what FreshDirect is, it is because I am totally going to move to NYC, so I have to know about NY stuff like that.

I realize that moving to NYC is not a money saving tip. It is more like a really great personal fantasy of mine, that is, in reality, a money draining tip. I just really want to move there. If not forever, then at least for a year. I feel that it would make me a stronger person.

I told a friend of mine that once. That exact thing. I told her that I wanted to live in New York City for a year and that I thought it would make me stronger.

She responded, "Why not just get cancer? It would be cheaper."

And here is another money saving tip. Take candy from babies. It's easy and you will save tons of money on candy.

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I have been sick for four weeks now. In truth, I had a one week reprieve and then got sick again, so it is more like I have been sick for three weeks over a four week time period with two different illnesses, or maybe one illness with a relapse since it seems similar but with a lot more sleeping. Although, to be honest, I don't remember much about the first illness except I was on it, as in having a great attitude about "beating this thing" and totally doing the hot lemon and honey drinks, lots of soup and my favorite cold remedies. This time, I am so tired of being sick that I am pretty much not doing anything for it at all except sleeping. And coughing. In that department, I have been quite productive indeed.

Feel sorry for me.

It isn't H1N1. It isn't even regular seasonal flu. At first I thought it was a reaction to the seasonal flu shot that I got. I had never gotten one before and when I started feeling badly that very night, I right away assigned blame. And I had corroboration too, others claiming that they had had reactions to the flu shot as well. My brother, Hank Torgit, assured me that the reaction would only last a few days but the resentment towards the shot could be expected to last the entire winter. But then my son, Edgerton, who did not get a flu shot, got sick also and slept for a record 18 hours straight and I had to revise my initial assessment. When I consult Dr. Internet, it seems pretty clear that I have the common cold- but bad. A bad, bad, bad, bad cold is what I have. But no matter how many bads I put in front of it, a cold doesn't really sound so bad. It certainly doesn't sound like I should be in bed all the time, sleeping for 13 hour stretches, letting my surroundings crumble around me.

Although, it might be turning into a sinus infection. Probably it is, because my face hurts more than it is killing you even.

Sinus infection. Just doesn't have that poetic ring to it, as far as maladies go, like consumption, the plague or swine flu. Tell someone that you have come down with a case of consumption, and you are immediately recognized as tragically ill and you get the sympathy you deserve. Poorly named, those sinus infections. They sound so run of the mill, so pedestrian. They should be re-named. Like after the doctor who discovered them or the patient who had the first one.

Finklestien's Disease.

Now that sounds much more deserving of sympathy, not to mention offers of soup, hot tea and brand new iphones.

Remember. Whiny is the new funny. And this post is

*all together now*

FREAKIN' HILARIOUS!!!

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As you might recall, my last post was full of advice for my son, Ellis, who is starting up his own humor blog. Or at least he said he was going to start one, but this could be like the time he said he was going to take over the world and insist that people eat more hot dogs. Or something like that. I am not sure about the details because the fact is HE DIDN'T DO IT. Poor follow through, if you ask me.

As might be expected, he has not read the post, the one I wrote especially for him, nor does he seem to have any interest in reading it. In fact, to get him to read my posts, I pretty much have to read them to him. Or hold his dinner hostage. And then read them to him while prying his fingers out from his ears.

As you, avid reader, might recall, one of my wise words o' advice for the boy, in that post that I wrote especially for him, was "Keep posting. Keep posting." This post falls under that category. The "keep posting" category. Do I have a theme? No? An idea? No. The desire to write? Not really. But I am doing it anyway. That is known as wasting everyone's time being brave. In fact, I am sick in bed. Only the second land-me-in-bed illness of this craptastic fall, the most craptastic fall in my history of falls. And autumns too, come to think of it.

Keep posting. Keep posting.

I used to only post when I was seized by an idea. I would know for several days that a post was incubating. When it was born, it was almost like I had nothing much to do with it. It just poured. I edited and revised in a frenzy and then, once it sang sweetly, I hit publish. Then I would realize that I missed a bunch of edits and I would edit some more. And then I would hit publish again and feel satisfied. Job well done. Another piece blogged. But lately, I have decided to challenge myself by writing more often, and seeing what happens. I figure that the only way I can become a better writer is to practice more. This is the idea anyway.

This isn't pouring. And no sweet singing is happening. This kind of writing is hard.

Perhaps if I had a topic. A funny story. A witty observation. Friends often try to help me out. "Blog about that!" they say. "That would make a great blog!" they cry in unison. I love that about my friends, how they are always crying things out in unison. I wish that they would break out into unison song and dance too. That would be really cool. I would invite them over more, if they did. Do you hear that friends? The reason that I don't invite you over more is because you don't break out into spontaneous song and dance. Not even that Tell Them Soldier Boy hip hop dance or the that Chicken wedding dance or anything. How hard would that be? Seriously.

So, anyway, friends make suggestions and I always laugh and say that I should use their ideas, but I never do. I don't really like being told what to do, I guess.

Hmmm...this just occurred to me. Maybe Ellis has inherited this trait from me.

WOAH!!!

Dear reader, you have just been a witness to one of those infamous, "AHA, DUH!" moments in Sondra Stinglash's life, where in an instant, I realize something that feels profound, yet in reality is simple and should be completely obvious.

Hey! Babies have big heads relative to the size of their bodies! I just noticed that!

AHA!

DUH!

Hey! You mean there is a shoe specifically for the left and another shoe specifically for the right?!

AHA!

DUH!

I just thought that shoes were meant to be uncomfortable, like half the time.

Yeah AHA! DUH!

Just. Like. That.

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Click on the Mime. You know you want to.

Slutty, Not Funny. No wait. I did that wrong.

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All writing copyright Callithump Thunderblog, 2008-2009. Enjoy, share and snuggle up with this blog, but please remember, a real, live, very nice person wrote it all by herself. Give credit where credit is due or I won't invite you to my birthday party. I mean it. Don't be a jerkface.